Bedside Visits

Who: Isabelle and Thom
Where: Thom's house
When: Early afternoon

This was risky. Isabelle wasn't usually this rash with her decisions, but between the weather being lovely and her foster parents suggesting she and her sister "get out of the house" and knowing how precarious the situation was...well maybe it was worth the risk.

She'd walked the entire way here, which was farther than she would normally walk, but being without a car she'd been short on options. It was important to see him though, things had gone so well at the hospital, ignoring the almost dying part, and so much progress had been made that waiting until Monday and school seemed too long. So here she was, ringing the doorbell at his house, smoothing her hair while she waited for someone to answer.

Thom hadn't been feeling well since the attack. Somehow, he'd been feeling better when he'd talked to Lullaby, but then not long after they'd started to move, he'd relapsed into feeling like shit and things had only slowly been better ever since. His mom had insisted he go straight to bed once she'd gotten him home, and he figured she must have been worried, because she'd stayed home since and she never did that. Ashbelle Harkin worked some of the longest hours he knew, but she'd been in and making sure he stayed in bed and rested.

He'd started feeling better today, but he was still wiped and sleeping off and on. At his request, Ashbelle had finally caved and given him a book on demons so that he could read up on what they were attacked by, which gave his mind something to do. Especially since she'd flat out refused to let him have his guitar, knowing that whilst he'd put a book down if he was tired, he'd play that damn thing whether he was tired or not. Anyway, knowing about demons was much more important than music.

He heard the doorbell go, and his mother answer it. there was some muted conversation in the hallway, and the sounds of footsteps on the stairs, and then his mom was there, saying he had a visitor. He wasn't expecting anyone and Thom sat up in bed, running a hand through his mop of dark hair and putting the book on his bedtable as he okayed the visit and his mom withdrew.

Isabelle had been hoping Thom would answer the door on his own, but she'd put on her best pretty, sweet girl smile for Ms. Harkin and followed her up to Thom's room. Isabelle had though he'd been in less than ideal shape when she met up with him and the others again, but she'd been distracted at the time, both by taking care of Medea and her own weakness.

When Ms. Harkin told her to go in, Isabelle was more than curious at what she'd find on the other side of the door. Thanking Thom's mother politely she peeked into the room not opening the door all the way, sort of half hiding behind it. The room was immaculate and larger than the one she shared with Medea. There wasn't any laundry on the floor or piles or left over pizza boxes or anything of that sort. Every surface was clear of clutter minus his dresser which looked like it was covered in sheet music. Looking at Thom, still in bed, she gave him a small smile. "Hi."

Isabelle. He really hadn't expected her. At all, in fact. Though, really, maybe he should. He wasn't sure. But her arrival definitely threw him - and made him aware that he was in bed. In a t-shirt and boxers, though the latter was covered by sheets and blankets. But still... But still, they'd just spent several days together where he'd been in pyjamas the whole time? Right, yeah - he realised he possibly needed to rethink that. "Er, hi! Come in - how're you doing?" he asked her, trying to sound like his usual cool, calm and collected self. Pity the fact that he was still bone tired and achy, plus rather paler than usual kinda took away from that.

She sheepishly let herself into the room, loitering by the door as if unsure what to do once she was in the room. "I'm alright, still a little...well you know...freaked out. Nightmares and such," she told him truthfully for once. She'd had another nightmare last night that involved Caleb crashing through the door but she couldn't see straight because of a pain in her head. She'd woken up crying. "But you're..." Isabelle looked at his face closely, noting that he was quite pale. "You're sick. You've been sick the whole time?" She moved forward closer to the bed, but it looked like an automatic reaction she checked two or three steps before she was close enough to touch him.

"It's nothing - just tired," Thom promised her, his brow furrowing as she said she'd been having nightmares. "So - you're not alright. And you can sit down, you know," he told her, shifting over in the bed so there'd be space for her to sit. "How's your sister? Are you both feeling better now?" Because he hadn't actually forgotten at all that they'd both been so very sick during the attacks. He'd just necessarily had to have had his attention elsewhere.

"You look a little worse than tired," she told him, unbuttoning her jacket and taking it off before sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. She tugged a little on the sleeves of her sweater as if she was nervous. Isabelle had picked the outfit out on purpose, the shade of purple was stunning on her and the neckline, although modest, was very flattering. "No offense of course," she added. "And I'm alright. Better than I was. Medea's doing better. She was still pretty weak yesterday, but she's frail in general ya know?"

Thom didn't look at all offended. "None taken - I'll get over it. Apparently those things have some kind of poison or something in their claws, so when I got swiped..." Thom indicated the now healing rake marks down the side of his face. They weren't deep - his mom had said she'd doubt that they'd even really scar long term, and they'd scabbed over nicely, but they were definitely still there. "I'm just waiting for it to work its way out of my system now," he explained.

Isabelle had noticed the marks on his face before, both at the asylum and now, but didn't feel right commenting on them until now. She lifted her hand, as if to touch his face, but pulled back bringing the hand close to her chest. The whole movement again seemed automatic even though it wasn't. "So you'll be ok?" Fear laced around the worry in her voice.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he assured her. He had to be fine, and he was only taking the time he needed now because Kaysen was safe next door. His mom had mentioned to him that Kaysen's parents had asked whether Thom would take to driving her to school in the future, to make sure she was okay, and he'd talked to Isaac and couple of times to get updates that way as well. All in all, he was happy that she didn't at all need him right now, so he could take the time to feel like crap and not face the world with jagged scabs down his face, getting odd looks. "I was more worried about you, and your sister."

Isabelle let her cheeks flush a warm red color, dropping her eyes from his and looking at the pattern on the bedspread. "You didn't need to...I..." she stammered a little giving the perfect impression of nervousness. Clearing her throat she finally glanced up but didn't completely meet his eyes. "I don't know how to thank you, I...you saved me back there. I don't know what happened, but...I've never been so scared." The shimmer of tears brimmed at the edges of her eyes, not enough to start crying but to give her a look at it was a possibility.

Thom instinctively reached out and took her hand, not liking to see her upset. "I know - it was... You shouldn't have had to go through that. None of us should have had to go through it." And the teachers, Skye - the people who hadn't made it. Thom still didn't know what the hell had happened, not really. Not even his mom knew exactly what had happened. That scared him most about everything. His mom always knew everything - that had always been a fact of life for him.

Isabelle let the shock show on her face when he grabbed her hand, but it wasn't from his touch, rather from the rush of his thoughts that flooded her. So rarely did she have a chance to use her talents like this, so rarely had she been close enough to someone that physical contact was almost casual. Desperate for more she clutched his hand leaning closer to him, as if needing to be close to him to feel safe. "What was it? And why? Why us?" Her voice was laced with desperation.

Thom glanced at the book on his bedside table. He knew he knew the answer to only one of those questions, the other two were at the forefront of his thoughts, those endless questions that he felt that drive to find the answers for, so that next time he could do better. He'd felt like he wasn't good enough, wasn't prepared enough for this at all since he'd got home. He needed to be better. "...I know they were demons," he admitted to her, figuring that she had a right to know. And he'd told her so much already. "But why? I don't know. That I really don't know."

He wasn't lying, that much she could tell from his thoughts. She sensed his doubt, his feeling that he wasn't able to be more. Trying hard not to smile, she managed to keep the fear on her face. "I still have no way to thank you, I don't think any of us would have made it out of there without you," she said, hopefully playing to his weakness.

Thom quirked a smile. "You don't need to thank me - and I wasn't the only one there. Anyway, I could hardly keep my head straight when those last two came. If it hadn't been for the others... I wasn't much use." If it hadn't been for the others, he might have failed, and he couldn't imagine the horror of life after that. Didn't want to imagine the horror of what life after that would be like. Meaningless, empty, nothing.

"Don't sell yourself short," she told him, smiling in response to his smile. "I was useless as well, I could barely walk..." Isabelle trailed off, face flushing as if remembering him carrying her out of the chapel. She was still holding on to his hand, listening intently while trying to maintain her composure.

"What happened there?" Thom asked, picking up on that. She and Medea had fallen ill so quickly - that had been what had been so shocking, so concerning about it. He'd thought she was going to die at one point. "Did you find out what was wrong? Have you seen a doctor?" he asked her.

"I don't know. The paramedics they checked us out but by then we were both doing better," she lied. "Our parents were concerned but the doctor says it was probably something we're both allergic to. We're allergic to quite a bit." It was so much easier to lie when it was so close to the truth. "It's an old building, full of all sorts of weird, old stuff. It was probably something we'd been in contact with for days but it didn't hit us until then." Isabelle gave him a confused look, as if whatever happened had baffled her just as much as him.

Thom frowned. "that doesn't make sense," he told her. "You said it was the building - but then you said it was something you'd been in contact with for days. We hadn't even been there twenty-four hours when you got sick." It wasn't that he thought she was lying - he really didn't have any reason to think she was. it was simply that she'd just contradicted herself, and Thom tended to notice things like that.

Shit. She'd been concentrating on his thoughts and messed up her timing. "Sorry, I got messed up," Isabelle said sheepishly. "I think I...I get a little flustered around you." She dropped her eyes with the admission. "They said it could be one or the other. Either something from the building or something from days before. Does that make sense?"

Thom smiled a little, gave her hand a squeeze and withdrew it, since he'd been flustering her apparently. "Yeah, that makes sense - have you been allergy tested?" he asked, back on simple curiosity and concern. He was also back to being aware that he was in bed right now, and felt the move to get up, but... she was there and everything, and he was half dressed, so, he was staying here and he'd just have to put up with feeling vaguely self-conscious instead.

She smiled in response but was sad to lose the contact of his hand, even if it did quiet things down in her head a little. Her hand felt oddly cold without his around it though, and she did her best not to look at it curiously. "Yea, the answer was just short of everything for me, and everything for Medea." Her voice was lighter now, moving on to more comfortable subjects.

He shifted down in the bed a little, bringing his knees up under the covers, so her was half laying, propped up by pillows, the blankets pooling around his waist. "That must make life hard for you both," he said. "Do you get taken ill like that often? Does it affect your cheerleading?" he asked. Everyone always had this image of cheerleaders and the popular crowd as being these perfect beings - massive personality trait failures aside - but Thom had known enough of the reality of those types of girls to know it wasn't true. Of course, he wasn't above generalising about them just as everyone else did, but he never believed it the way he knew some people did.

"Sometimes? I've gotten good at avoiding what it is I'm allergic to, but usually I don't go to new places often. Like at home we've cleared out most of what would get us sick and I know what to avoid at school? But it's not really a perfect science." Isabelle shrugged, smiling because she was pleased he was asking about her. That was a good sign. "As for cheerleading, if I'm careful with what I eat and such it's fine. The coach knows about my allergies though, and she's pretty good about it." She shifted a little on the bed, getting more comfortable and a little closer to him.

"I think most people think 'allergies' and kinda assume it stops you living your live - like that boy that had to go around everywhere in a plastic bubble, or having to check to see if there's peanuts in everything," Thom suggested. He didn't know much about allergies himself - he didn't have any, and Kaysen didn't, so it wasn't anything he'd looked into. "Do you have one of those inhaler things?" he asked her.

"It's manageable. You end up being really picky about what you eat, and read the label on almost anything, but still it's mangle." Isabelle shook her head in response to his question about the inhaler. "No inhaler, but I do carry and epipen, just in case." She reached for her coat and produced it out of the front pocket. "It's just a shot with medicine in it in case I eat something I shouldn't."

"That's like... adrenaline, right?" Thom checked. He knew that one - long nights in alone and not always being in the mind to play music meant he watched a hell of a lot of TV, you picked things up. "For really bad allergies? I'm surprised you didn't need it the other day." he'd thought she was going to die - god, if he'd known about her pen, maybe he could have done more for her. but she hadn't said anything about it.

"It's really just for anaphylactic shock, which wasn't what was wrong with me," Isabelle explained. "Like I said, I'm not sure, but the symptoms weren't typical, so who knows if it would have made it worse rather than better. Plus it was in the dorm and not with me. I'd forgotten to grab it on the way out."

Thom made a mental note to look up what anaphylactic shock exactly was, it's signs and symptoms and what brought it on. TV shows always kind of glossed over that part. And to see if he could get an epipen to add to his first aid kit. he didn't have one of those. "Okay - well, glad you didn't need it then," he said, offering her a smile that was a touch worried. It really seemed that every step at the moment was showing him just how unprepared he was for all of this.

"You and me both," she told him with a smile. Her allergies were a pain to deal with but almost dying was far worse than reading the labels and swearing off certain foods. "What about you? Do you figure you'll be back in school tomorrow?" Her smiled faded a little to a look of concern.

Thom inhaled, held the breath and slowly let it go as he thought about the question. "...I'm not sure," he admitted. He had things he wanted to do, and school wasn't at the top of his list right now. He needed to learn how to be better, and once his mom had talked about him learning to shoot. That seemed like it would be a good idea right now, and the sooner the better. He figured it would take time, and the way the world as at the moment, time didn't seem to be something he had. And he needed to go through all of his books on magic, start looking at whether white magic could cover anything that was offensive. And if it didn't? then he needed to forget about his mother's wishes and look at other ways. What he had wasn't enough - it wasn't anywhere near enough. And so, he had to fix that. he was determined to fix that.

Isabelle frowned, but her eyes were still filled with concern. "So you're not doing as well as you say either." She needed a reason to see him, regularly, for the next few days and she'd hoped school would be a good answer. If he was staying home sick though, she'd have to either keep visiting him, which may or may not go over well with both Thom or his mother or she'd have to come up with some other way.

Thom looked at her for a moment, assessingly, then shifted, moving over more on the double bed so that he could lie on his side, pushing his pillows up under one arm as he propped himself up on it, his hand bunching up his hair carelessly, keeping it out of his face. "I'm fine," he told her, then amended that with a roll of his eyes. "I'll be fine. I'm feeling better. I'm just tired. It's just... Right now. With all that? I don't know if I'm ready to go back to school," he confessed. "Seriously - I mean... Look at what's been going on lately. It started in the summer. And things have been getting slowly worse. And not just 'rising crime rate' worse. Supernatural worse. And I want to be ready - for what comes next. And school's not teaching me that. Not even with dumb trips that are meant to teach us about ghosts and end up with people getting killed by demons. School doesn't feel like where I'm meant to be right now. And I don't exactly have to be there. I have all my classes to graduate, my mom will give me a note for a while. I just... Does that make sense?" he asked her, as though her opinion on the subject really matter to him.

Isabelle had watched him closely through his whole speech, listening closely. Again she was astonished with what she'd found in this boy, that he was far more than he appeared to be. She didn't know about everything he'd mentioned; hell, she hadn't been in town that long, but he was right in some regard. Something horrible had happened to Chrissy and of course there had been other horrible things she'd heard of. "I dunno, I mean it does, but what are you supposed to do about it? And yea maybe you don't need to be in school, but what about the stability of it? Don't you think that's what we need now? Something stable?" Isabelle was more than curious why he thought he needed to be better prepared for whatever evils lurked. She slid closer to him again, so close they were almost touching.

"...And stability is being somewhere that sends us to places like that?" he posed. That didn't feel particularly stable to him. That felt like being in the middle of an organisation that didn't have the first clue what it was dealing with.

Thom had a point there. Isabelle frowned as she thought about what he said. "I guess not. But I don't know what else I can do." Her eyes looked sad, and behind that scared.

He didn't like that scared look on her face, but he knew exactly how she felt, because he felt it too. He hadn't asked for his birthright, there were times when he didn't want it. But he was what he was, and sometimes - sometimes he was just grateful for the upbringing he'd had, because it better prepared him for the things he had to face, the things that took everyone else by surprise. "I think all we can do is try and prepare ourselves for next time," he told her, reaching for her hand again, because he knew that what he had to say wouldn't be anything that anyone would actually like hearing. He tugged on her hand slightly, a subtle message that if she needed to come closer, he wasn't going to push her away. He half-anticipated that he was going to upset her and was trying to preempt that. "Because I believe there will be a next time. And this time - there was nobody there to help us. You asked what I could do about it - but what can anyone else do about it? If these kinds of things are going to keep happening, we can't rely on other people to keep us safe. Why? Because we're still at school? Those demons didn't care about that. I have a responsibility to be able to take care of myself, because I can. And I can take care of others as well. i know more about this stuff than most people. I'm already aware - so, people need time to catch up. You need time to catch up. Because other people aren't always going to be there to protect us."

Isabelle had swallowed the gasp when he took her hand, his thoughts were as frevernt as his voice and it hit her before he started speaking. She followed the tug on her hand and moved into place next to him, close enough that she could focus on just his eyes as he spoke. It was obvious from looking at him that he believed what he was saying, but his thoughts echoed the same thing. He really did think they needed to prepare for the worst. Fear, real fear, ran through Isabelle and she let it show. "But me, Thom. Me. I'm useless. You saw, if you hadn't been there I'd be just as bad off as..." Isabelle trailed off at the mention of her supposed friend. Her eyes watered again, filling with tears and one or two escaped. If Thom was right, then she and her sister were in danger. At least Medea had Porter to protect her, but who did Isabelle have? She'd been sloppy in cultivating someone to fight for her and she just got lucky that Lockwood had been around before.

He reached out with his other hand and wiped the tears from her face, not at all surprised to see them there. He'd expected it. "You're not useless, Isabelle," he told her, sincerely. "You've just never had to face this kind of thing before. Unprepared is not the same as useless - and just because you happened to have a reaction to something... You saw me, when we got out. I was hurt too. I couldn't do much. We all have our bad times - but that's why we all need to be able to do something. Because, if we can't..." He trailed off, leaving it at that.

She leaned into his hand a little, as if needing the supportive touch. Her eyes fluttered closed briefly and then opened them again. Thom didn't need to finish his statement. Isabelle knew what he meant, even without his mind screaming it at her. "I don't know where to start...I'm not..." she wanted to say she wasn't equipped for this, but it didn't seem useful. Isabelle had no interest in learning how to fight, but if that's what it took to keep Thom nearby? Then she'd consider at least starting down that road. Maybe she'd even learn a thing or two along the way that wasn't too getting into the thick of things.

"Me neither," Thom admitted, thought that wasn't entirely true. "I've been picking things up-" which was also known as 'studying intently' "-for the past couple of years. but, really, I thought just some defensive spells, knowing a bit of first aid and learning to fight some would help." Thom was really downplaying what he could do here, and he knew it. What he'd told her hardly scratched the surface of what he could do. Didn't touch upon the belts he'd earned in martial arts, the certificates he had in first aid, the skills he'd developed in white magic recently. It didn't even mention how much better he'd been getting with his mother's knife, or the chest of her weapons that he had stored in his closet. A gift for his eighteen birthday. He thought of them all, but said nothing. She was having a hard enough time of it already, but he couldn't protect her, and she was proving herself to be a nice girl - if all he could do was to help her to help herself, then maybe it would be something.

Isabelle lost his words in his thoughts, having to seriously fight back the portion of her that was giddy at the thought of owning him. The list in his head far outweighed what he actually said outloud. A chest of weapons hidden in his closet. It took every ounce of will she had to keep from letting her eyes tick in the direction of the closet. "Do you think you could..." she trailed off leaving the question open ended for him to draw his own conclusions.

Thom could think of a number of answers to the unfinished question, but largely, they were all the same. "Yes," he told her, wondering which one she'd meant, hoping that she'd elaborate.

The smile she gave him was small, but inwardly she was even more excited. She still had a ways to go, but a strong answer to her vague statement meant there was more he was willing to do than less. "I don't even know if I'd be any good at any of it, any of the stuff you could show me." There, she'd given him more of a direction to think about.

Thom returned the smile, though it turned thoughtful, after a moment or two. he looked away, towards the dresser, then back at her. "If you look in the bottom drawer there, there's a box - small, cardboard, green. Could you fetch it for me?" he asked her. Normally, he would have gone himself, but there was the t-shirt and boxers of it all to consider.

Isabelle hesitated, appearing to not be eager to leave the closeness they had. Giving his hand a tight squeeze she nodded, and moved from where she'd been on the bed and retrieved the box from the dresser. She came back to the bed with the box in hand, setting it in the space between them as she settled down again next to him.

Thom waited until she'd got herself settled, then propped himself up a little more, flipping the lid on the box to reveal a carefully organised arrangement inside. "My mom gave me this box when I was a kid," he explained to her, taking out the pieces one at a time and setting them on the counterpane. "It's simple, really - the first spell I ever learned." He moved the now-empty box out of the way and looked at her. He pulled a slightly bashful face. "I kinda keep the ingredients up to date, though I don't use the spell anymore," he explained, which said something about him, really. It was sentimental, he knew, but he was fine with that. "So, we have a willow switch," he told her, indicating the small twig covered in dried leaves. "Willow's good for emotions - and it can give emotional strength. Dried mock orange leaves - that's for conclusion..." He took her point by point through the handful of dried leaves and branches on the bed, explaining carefully what each one as for, before going on. "The spell itself is pretty simple. You just need a tiny bit of each, then mix them together with some of this lavender oil and say these words," he told her, handing her a piece of handwritten paper and gesturing that she should give it a go.

Isabelle had watched him closely, listening to the different explanations and storing the information although not sure what use it could have later. She lacked a real interest in magic, but he was reaching out to her, showing her something he didn't share with everyone. The box had come from his mother and when he was a kid? There was something else in that, and Isabelle wanted to know what. Taking the paper she repeated the lines, slowly, trying not to stumble over the words as she went. Once she was done she looked up with hopeful eyes that were eager to see what he'd say. "What's it supposed to do?"

As she looked up, the spell kicked in and a light green glow spread out from the bowl between them, seeping around them, until it encompassed the entire bed, flowing onto the floor before it disappeared. "That - it's meant to do that," Thom told her, smiling a little. "...It's a spell that tells you whether there's a monster under your bed," he added, the smile turning almost impish. "If there is - apparently it turns red. Apparently. It never has. But then again, I've never had a monster under my bed."

Isabelle laughed lightly in spite of herself and grinned at him. Leaning in she rested her forehead against his and then pulled away, still smiling. "That's adorably silly," she told him sweetly. Her voice also conveyed that she enjoyed the gesture.

Thom shrugged and matched her smile. "I was, like... six," he admitted to her. "Better than a bedtime story, apparently," he teased. "And you did it - so.... Not useless. not everyone can manage magic, you know. Most people can, but not everyone."

Laughing again she settled in a little closer to him, considering the spell. Magic seemed like a waste, but then again maybe it had some useful aspects to it. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to learn. "Ok, so not completely useless," she conceded, the laughter still in her voice. "I can do a back handspring and a spell you could do at age six."

He laughed at that, open and genuine. "Hey - back handsprings could be useful!" he teased, catching the bowl that had threatened to turn over with the movement on the bed. It didn't take much. A counterpane wasn't exactly a stable worksurface.

Isabelle was pleased to see the laugh, it was a good sign in all aspects of her plan. It meant he was relaxing around her, opening up and enjoying himself. She'd reached for bowl at the same time when she saw it tilt, her hand catching his on the side of it. "Oops," she murmured, her eyes searching his for something, anything.

"I should probably clear all this up," Thom told her, starting to collect the rest of the components, aware of her hand on his, leaving a tingling sensation behind. "Or else I'll be clearing bits of leaf out of my bed for the next week or so."

She quirked a small smile at that, but her eyes stayed on him. "Can I help or something?" she asked but her heart wasn't in it, she seemed distracted, and from looking at her she was distracted by him.

Thom blinked, misunderstanding her. "You... want to help me clean leaf bits out of my bed?" he asked her.

"Oh, no, that would be, um...well " she said, purposely shaking a little out of the haze with a flush creeping into her cheeks. "I guess I meant help clean up. Aren't you supposed to be resting or something?" Isabelle reached for the box, holding it so he could put everything back in it as if she needed something to do with her hands.

Thom gave her a bit of a look. "Now you're sounding like my mother," he said, lightly. "I'm resting - I'm not totally useless," he added, purposefully using that word, since they'd been talking about it before.

Isabelle scowled a little at the mother comment. "No one said you were useless, but I still want you to get better. And do you have to compare me to your mom," she told him with a tease in her voice to the last comment. She reached around the box and poked him gently with a small smirk that gave her eyes a little glow.

"Hey," he said, squirming slightly, very clearly ticklish. He batted her hand away. "Anyway, you could take that as a compliment. My mom's pretty kick ass," he informed her. Thom had always held his mom in very high esteem - it wasn't a hard thing to do, considering who and what Ashbelle was.

She giggled a little, enjoying that he was squirming. "So you think I kick ass?" Isabelle leaned in close almost touching her nose with his.

Thom considered for a moment, then pulled back a little, so she wasn't quite as much in his personal space. "I said maybe - better than thinking yourself useless, right?" he offered, wondering if he'd just landed himself in a lot of trouble here.

"Much better" she told him with a grin, leaning back so she was propping herself up with her arms behind her. "Kinda nice actually."

Thom relaxed slightly - that was better. He knew he'd been kind of, well - he wouldn't call it flirting exactly, but being more relaxed maybe, he decided. Though, really, that was just default for him - he just hadn't meant, and then she was right there. And he'd made himself a promise that girls would be right out from now on and, really, after the weekend they'd just had, he needed to be very firm with that. He hadn't meant to give her ideas, or lead her on. "Nice?" he asked, trying to keep with the conversation whilst he thought.

Isabelle was aching to touch him again, curious what his thoughts would say. She held back though, giving him the space he needed. "I dunno." She tilted her head to the side a little while she thought. "I guess it's that there's a buncha people who think I'm not worth much of anything. Just another stupid cheerleader ya know? But like you? You talk to me like I'm more than that and it's not just 'cause you're trying to get laid or whatever. I've got my friends and all, but they don't really know about all this other stuff like you do. And now...It seems hard to pretend all the other stuff isn't going to affect us like they can." Isabelle shrugged a little, looking at him hopefully. "I'm not making sense am I?"

"You know, most people think that about other people," Thom told her. "That someone's 'just... fill in the blank'. Like 'just another stupid cheerleader' or 'just a member of the chess team' or 'just that girl nobody ever notices'. And it's never true. Nobody's ever 'just' anything. And, sure - they may be that, but they'll always be other things as well. So - I try not to assume that. I'd be setting myself up to be proved wrong." He didn't comment about the fact he wasn't trying to get laid, since he wasn't, but he'd prefer to avoid the subject entirely. "And I think that more people probably know about this stuff than you think, Isabelle. it's just that until now, most of us didn't talk about it. People generally look at you like you're insane when you start talking about white magic, demons and all that kind of thing."

Isabelle thought he was somewhat off on that, but realized that was why people liked Thom so much. He waited to get to know them before passing judgement. Isabelle knew full well though, the sterotypes that people were given was a powerful tool, something that could be manipulated depending how they felt about it. "So you're saying you're more than just a cute boy with a guitar?" she teased, her voice saying she knew better. "You really think people are going to start talking about it more?"

Thom shrugged a shoulder. "You tell me that - am i more than just that?" he asked her, knowing that she'd have to know the truth of that by now, and knowing that she very much did so. He'd never really seen himself as someone that people categorised that way in any event, though he knew they probably did so. He'd always tried to work at not being any one thing. Probably, he knew, that meant that he got just what she'd labeled him. He became 'the musician'. There were worse things to be. "And yeah, I think people will start talking more. And sound less crazy for doing it. They'll have to, though... It's important to keep peoples secrets," he said, a little more hesitantly, thinking of Lullaby Draven.

She watched him closely, wondering what he was playing at, but still she answered his question. "Of course you are," she told him with a light note in her voice. "You've got a few other talents not many know about." She motioned towards the box as evidence. "And although I have a feeling you're going to deny it, you're sort of my hero." Isabelle looked away a little as if trying to hide the blush in her cheeks behind her hair. She knew what he meant about secrets though. There were plenty that needed to be kept that way, especially her own. In response to his statement though, she just nodded in understanding.

Thom opened his mouth to say something, and suddenly realised that he had no clue what to say. She'd completely thrown him and disarmed him with that, and he felt a slight wave of redness rise up his neck, toughing his cheeks. Still, he didn't say anything 'I've never been anyone's hero before' sounded lame even in his own head, and he wasn't entirely sure she was being serious in any event.

When he didn't say anything Isabelle looked back at him, noticing the flush in his cheeks and the sort of slack jawed look of surprise. Inwardly she grinned with excitement. The statement had gone over better than she imagined. She'd expected him to jump to denial, writing her off, and instead, no instead he just seemed completely off his mark. "I'm sorry, was that...I..." she stammered, leaning forward again her hands in front of her, although she let them fall into her lap without touching him. Her eyes dropped from his face to rest on her hands.

"No, don't be..." Thom exclaimed, shaking himself out of it. "I just... I..." Nope, he still had nothing. he was still stuck on the fact that it was nice to be appreciated. Often he didn't feel like he was. But then again, he had a protected who wasn't good at that kind of thing, and she didn't know he did half the things he did for her, or any of that. "...It's okay."

"Are you sure?" Isabelle asked quietly, looking up at him from behind long eyelashes and the hair that fell in her face. "You didn't say anything and I thought I..."

"Yeah, it's, just - well, y'know. You don't hear things like that every day. I mean, it's just..." God. when did he lose the ability to talk, exactly? He'd always generally been better with this. generally. Not always, but. Really, he was known for being far more together than this. Unflappable, nothing fazed Thom Harkin. Wasn't that what Isaac always used to say. Damn.

Isabelle gave him a small smile, still not quite looking at him, but not entirely away. Seeing Thom flounder under her compliment was thrilling and just what she could have hoped for. Reaching out, she touched his hand lightly, just enough to feel the rush of his thoughts. "Well it's the truth."

Mentally, Thom was busy pulling himself together, getting with it. It was one of those things, he knew - everyone knew that he was a pretty cool customer, but, really, when it got right down to it, with girls? He wasn't that great. Sure he could talk to them and he was all fine and everything - until it got to anything, kind of, well... Yeah, he'd really had only the two girlfriends - Em back in his freshman year, and then Leija. Chrissy didn't count. And Leija had dumped him anyway. And Em had been a bitch. Possibly he didn't have the best taste in women...

She took it all in, every slip and tumble of his mind, enjoying every moment of it. She'd believed the hype, the outward persona, that he was unflappable and here he was, completely losing his shit and she hadn't even done anything serious yet. Isabelle curled her fingers around his, holding on to his hand gently, a reminder that she was there. "You ok? You got quiet. I didn't scare you did I?" Her voice was still soft, and held a tone of insecurity.

Thom looked at her with that and managed a chuckle, gathering himself rather more and indicating his face. "I just faced down demons. No - you didn't scare me," he told her, composing himself. He'd learned to do that as a kid, to rationalise what he faced, to not let emotions and tangents get in the way. He rarely flailed for very long.

Isabelle smiled, still a shy small smile, but it conveyed how happy she was. "Good. I'd hate to run you off or something," she explained. Listening carefully she not only watched him put his thoughts together but also heard him align them. It made him all the more interesting, how he was able to do that and she had a hard time keeping that look off her face.

"Not gonna do that," Thom promised her. She seemed like a sweet girl, even for a cheerleader. And, seemingly, no worse physically for her bout of sickness, though who knew where anyone was emotionally after what they'd all been through. "You gonna be okay?" he asked her, hoenstly concerned.

She didn't answer right away, just let her eyes glaze a little before finally speaking softly. "I think so? It was just so scary. And Skye? I mean I knew her. We had a lot of mutual friends and we'd hung out a bit too." Isabelle's eyes watered slightly, even though she had no love lost for the girl who died. Actually it was easier for Isabelle. Skye reminded people of Chrissy and Isabelle was trying to let the former Queen Bee slide out of memories. "I don't think I've even dealt with it ya know? I mean tomorrow at school? When she's not there? I think that's when it'll hit me, but right now? I dunno."

"Do you know if they're having a memorial?" Thom asked. he hadn't known Skye that well. He'd talked to her a couple of times, but that was it. Still, he felt for her loss. he'd feel for anyone's loss. he knew that as many people would be mourning the teachers who had died as the student. Surely, surely they had to hold a memorial. they had for all the other deaths this year. God - when had things got so fucked that that was a plural?

"I haven't heard anything yet. Maybe someone will say something at school tomorrow?" Isabelle doubted it though. The people who showed up to "rescue" them for the asylum had seemed really not interested in what went down while they were snowed in. To the point where Isabelle wasn't sure if they'd let anyone mourn the situation. Like how some schools continue to steer conversations away from it when a kid kills himself.

"Maybe," Thom agreed, a little sadly. "Would you let me know if they do?" he asked her, making his mind up, sure now that he wasn't going back, not for the foreseeable future. His mom would back the decision. Or, if she didn't, he'd make her see sense. He knew she'd always pushed the importance of education, but she had to see the way the world was turning. She knew his role in it - there were much more important things to be doing with his life right now. At least until he was properly prepared.

"Of course," she told him, nodding a little. This disappointment she was feeling from hearing his thoughts and his almost steadfast decision that he was done with school showed on her face as sorrow and confusion. She squeezed his hand a little. "If they do...you think you'd go with me? I'm not sure I can...I don't want to do it on my own."

"Sure I'll go," Thom told her with a smile. he'd want to, that was for sure. he'd find the time to. He just couldn't be in school right now - going for a memorial was different, as far as he was concerned.

Isabelle gave him a smile, but it seemed forced over her own rage of emotions. From the look on her face it was obvious she was still suffering some and only now starting to deal with some of the emotional backlash of the past few days.

"It'll be okay, you know," Thom told her, trying to be supportive, but knowing even as he said it that he was lying. He couldn't promise that - but sometimes lying was necessary. Sometimes lying could be a good thing.

Lying was useless when she could hear he was lying, but it didn't matter. She'd been lying herself. Yes she was dealing with some issues from the few days before, almost dying does that to anyone, but it wasn't as bad as she was letting him believe. Playing her part she nodded, almost too fast and bit her lip as if trying not to cry again.

Thom wasn't sure what to say other than that, and he looked at her, wondering if she was going to cry. He couldn't blame her if she was. Things really had been awful. He gave her a sympathetic look, and then opened his mouth to say something when he heard a noise outside and looked towards the door, seeing the unmistakable shadow of his mother hovering in a way he supposed was meant to be 'subtle'. He knew what that meant, and he thought she'd probably done that on purpose - the noise. A little reminder that he was 'sick', that he was meant to be 'resting'. But without coming right in and breaking things up.

Isabelle glanced to the door as well, but not sure if she did because she heard the noise as well or because she heard him think about it. Pulling away from his hand, although reluctantly she checked her watch. Yes, she'd been here quite a while, and probably was close to overstaying her welcome. She gave him a sheepish look, and moved to get up, but still didn't say anything just yet.

Thom pulled a face. "Sorry - apparently I'm meant to be resting," he told her, raising his voice at the second half of the statement, for his mother's benefit, since she was hovering. His tone was one of someone who got the message, really he did.

She gave him her best sly smile, knowing what he did there, making his voice louder so his mom would hear. "Of course you are," Isabelle told him sweetly, gathering up her things. "I'll see you again soon though right?"

"Sure," Thom agreed, fine with that. "Do you have my number?" he asked her, since he wasn't going to be in school anymore, not for the foreseeable future, anyhow.

"Um, no." Isabelle dug her own phone out of her pocket and readied herself to get his number, the look on her face had a little bit of that eager school girl with a crush look.

Thom clocked the look and wondered for a moment if this was a good idea. Though Isabelle was proving to be nicer than he'd first thought she would be, he didn't want to give her the wrong idea, and he'd promised himself that he'd be off girls for a while. He didn't want to lead her on. But, then again, swapping numbers was sensible, so he snagged his own phone from the side of his bed and passed it over. "Why don't we just swap then," he suggested to her.

"Makes sense," she told him, handing hers over as well and entering her number into his, even though it took a second to figure out how to work his much nicer phone. Hers meanwhile was far outdated. All it really did was make phone calls, which her foster parents insisted was more than enough. "Here you go," she held it out for him when she was done.

Thom had quickly entered his own, and then he passed it back. "Thanks. And let me know if there's anything going on with school, okay?" he told her, serious about that.

Isabelle nodded. "Sure," she agreed, pocketing her own phone and turning towards the door of his room. "Feel better ok?" The statement sounded concerned and genuine, which in some ways it was. She needed him well and healthy if he was going to be of any use to her. Caring about him while he was ill was useful for getting in, but what good was he if he stayed ill?

Thom shuffled down in the bed, lying down and pulling the covers up. in actual fact, he was feeling pretty tired again now. A nap for a few hours would hurt anything, then he could get back to studying demons. "Sure - see you around, Isabelle," he called, sleepily.

"See ya around Thom," she said softly, sliding out the door and closing it softly behind her. Risky yes, but she still had to consider the visit a success.